The Great Tribulation part 4: Battle For Britain
by Brendan Morrisey
Summary: Coming from an occupied France, the Nazi zombies enter Britain with the sole intent of taking over and destorying the country. A great battle is fought on the beaches and John is the only man who can stand up against the demon possesed Florian.


_We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender._

-Winston Churchill 

October 1940:

Since August, the battle of Britain had been raging on only in the air between the British and German Air Forces, but many others were stationed to battle on the ground just in case anything else was to happen. John had made his way back into the country, down into the beaches of Britain. The only thing between him and France was the sea. Many troops were stationed there in case any Nazis from an Occupied France decided to sneak their way in. One of the troops stationed there was Abigail's old fiancé Ted, who had not been in contact with John since he sent word out to him that he needed his help once he made it back home. Once John met up with Ted they talked to each other as the walked across the beach past endless numbers of soldiers, preparing for the unexpected. Neither of them brought up Abigail.

"So I don't understand," said Ted. "Why did you make it all the way here just to be amongst us army folk again?"

"I told you before, I ran into some trouble with these German archeologists who had been on my ass when I was working in Israel, and I got word that they're planning something big."

"How big are we talking about here?"

"Ted, if I even told you, you would never believe me. You're a religious man, you read the bible, right?"

"Yeah." 

"Well imagine the end of the world type of big. Like the great tribulation was upon us and we were the ones left to decide the fate of the world…."

"Yeah… That does sound pretty big."

"Just make sure everyone is ready."

Spitfires flew over head. The sound of the planes altogether was like a thunderstorm before a rainy night. One night came some troops began taking shifts on look out while others slept. It got late real fast. John laid down on the beach looking out into the waves of the ocean. Ted laid beside him, he was already asleep. John began thinking back on the moment in the desert, shooting Florian and how it did nothing to him. He remembered looking into his eyes and it felt like he wasn't even looking at that same man anymore, it was like staring at a completely different person.

John continued to struggle staying awake as he watched the planes fly by again. The world around him started to feel like a flaky dream that was hard to wake up from. The line between reality and dreams began to vanish into a lost existence. His eyes closed as he embraced his temporary end.

"All is clear around here so far. Over." 

The pilot flew among the clouds in the night, in a coldness he could not feel within his cockpit. It had been days since the Royal Air Force fought any battles, this particular pilot had yet to take part in any of them. He remained professional about the situation but still could not do away with his anxiousness. The sky was peaceful in all it's heavenly glory but it was not enough. He wanted to face hell on Earth. He wanted to feel that power that came to a man when he destroyed something with life in it. He wanted to risk everything he had knowing he had a half and half chance of making it out alive. He wanted to conquer death and spit it it's face, then laugh at god. His thoughts always trailed off as he flew around waiting for something to happen. His concentration was lost as he focused more on fantasizing what it would be like to take part in a great battle. He was expecting the unexpected to come at him from nowhere, but he was not expecting a human being to appear out of nowhere in the sky, latching onto the plane through the screen in front of him.

The pilot had no idea how to act. The monstrosity of a man that clung to his plane began tearing through the metal with it's bear hands. The pilot did not scream, all he could do was struggle to keep his plane in the air as this thing blocked out his sight. The plane began to go up in flames as the creature managed to crack the screen and reach it's hands onto the controls and tear them apart. The pilot gave up his struggle with the creature and let the plane spiral out of control. The greatest part of war was dying while knowing you served your part.

John awoke to the sound of gun fire. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a plane spiraling downward through the sky as it lit up like a phoenix in it's last dying moment. Many other planes began to follow this same trend till it looked like the sky was raining fire. He turned his attention to the ocean to see an army of the living dead emerging from the waves. They walked through the water as if the force of the waves were weak against them. These demonic creatures looked nothing like they did before when John had last encountered them. Their faces were more distorted than ever. Their flesh was peeling from their faces, showing the bone of their skulls. Their whole bodies were scarred with lacerations and their Nazi uniforms were torn and stained with blood. Their pale white skin gave off a light into the darkness of the night that was as bright as the moon. They leaped over great distances onto the soldiers that fired at them. The bullets tore at their skin but did nothing to keep them back from devouring their victims. There was no pain in being undead. Very little of them went down as some soldiers were lucky enough to get a shot at the head, but there were too many of the creatures for the small number of deaths to have any effect on stopping them as a whole. Some were blown to bits by the explosion of grenades and rocket launchers but even their dismembered body parts continued striving onward. Severed arms crawled through the sand with life still in them. Some British soldiers who had died had even begun to stand back up again and attack their own side.

Many men went crazy, shooting their guns screaming ear piercing battle cries without paying attention to their surroundings. The world around John had gone insane and he was mixed up in the confusion. He stayed low to the ground until the man close by him who was shooting in all directions was picked up by one of the creatures that swooped through the air and dropped him piece by piece. John got up with his machine gun in hand and ran onto the beach firing away at the beasts that plagued his men. Many of the ones he shot at fell dead to the ground as he took his time to aim for their heads. It became harder to tell who to fire at as many of the soldiers who had fought on his side had passed on over to the other side and became the vessels for evil spirits that flew through them. John took no mercy on the enemy around him and continued shooting even after he realized his gun was empty.

Something came out at John from behind and took him down to the ground. He was ready to pull out his knife and stab it in the face till he turned over on his side and realized it was Ted. "Let's get the hell out of here."

The two ran together through the chaos. Men that were dead and men that were alive were scattered on the ground, laying there helplessly, pleading to John and Ted. No one came to the aid of those who were injured because those who took the time to stop what they were doing were quickly gone within a split second. John and Ted jumped over each body and kicked at the ones that clung to their pant legs. They made their way off of the beach where the battle wasn't bad. They continued running side by side until finally Ted stopped to speak to John. 

"What the hell are these things?" He screamed in utter confusion.

"I know it sounds crazy but they're possessed by demons and you can only kill them if you destroy the head. Shooting it in the brain or blowing it off completely is the only thing that works."

"Well I guess I have an easier time believing that after seeing it first hand."

John turned and looked to the battle going on behind him. There was no way the British army had a chance against these things. The creatures pushed forward through the waves of living flesh that charged onto them. They were going to make their way into the country, into civilization. They would conquer the streets of London and kill everyone. Great Britain would be conquered by the Nazis and by the renegade angels that sprung from hell to bring the world to it's end. There was only one way John could end this, he had to find Florian and get that ring from him. He did all he could do for now, he hid from the battle alongside Ted and waited patiently for his chance to seize the moment of taking down Florian. He kept his eyes opened and watched as his men were slaughtered and the army of demons made their way closer and closer. John watched everyone around him die as he prayed beneath his breath. He whispered amongst the sound of gunfire, not even he could hear his own voice, but he silently called out for god's help.

"God, it's been a long time since we last spoke, I know I haven't exactly been the best Christian I could be, but I've literally been through hell lately and I would really appreciate it if you gave me the chance to end all this. All I ask for is your help. Please don't let the world end like this… Not like this."

Not even a half hour had yet past and most of the troops that had been positioned on the beach were all dead. The opposing forces marched slower and advanced forward through the ruins of their victory. Leading this army was Florian, or what was left of him. Beelzebub was in more control of him now than he was. John got up and made himself visible, standing in front of Florian, not saying a word. He held a machete that he had taken from a corpse nearby. The expression on his face spoke enough for him as his anger showed through his eyes. Florian stopped and his army behind him stopped with him. Ted got up from hiding and stood beside John. They were only two men standing before an army of thousands. Florian let out a snarling grunt in response to John's stand he had made against him. They looked into each others eyes and John felt lost within the white gaping holes that filled Florian's sockets. Ted could do nothing but stand there shaking in the fear that swept over him. He did not understand anything that John had in mind by doing this, but so far, the fact that the whole army had stopped everything they were doing to stare them down was scary enough to make Ted urinate in his pants.

"So this is how it's going to be," Florian spoke but with a voice that was not his. It was like the hiss of a serpent combined with the guttural growl of a large beast. "A lot has changed since our last acquaintance. I think you might be surprised by some new features I've developed."

"So what." John responded in a quick flash of fury. "If there's anything of a man left there within you you'd take me down yourself, without the help of your puppets." 

Ted began backing off from John's side, clearly realizing that his friend had lost his mind and they were both going to die for it.

"And so it shall be. I will take you down alone, and you will feel what it's like to bow down to a power as great as mine. You John Spurlock… are a dead man."

John raised his machete in the air and ran at Florian. He charged at him, slashing the blade into his face and driving it deep into his flesh. Florian coughed blood as he laughed. He lifted John over his head and tossed him like he would a twig. He flew through the air, the only thing he could think about up there was how much it was going to hurt when he hit the ground. Ted stood in his path and broke the fall. The two lay on top of each other, tangled in each other's arms. The blade of the machete had struck the ground by Ted's head. He looked over and gave out a wail, thankful for not being struck by John's weapon. Florian marched forward as his soldiers continued to watch like a well-behaved audience. He grabbed John's shoulder to lift him up, ready to finish him off. John quickly turned with his machete in hand, piercing Florian in the belly. He twisted the blade inside him and tore open his stomach till his intestines spilled out like water pouring out of a pitcher. Florian fell to his knees and clutched at his remnants and squeezed them in his hands. He looked up at John and gave out another laugh and began strangling him with the intestines. He got close to John's face, as if to be intimate with him as he laughed while he choked the life out of John. Florian's soldiers got in closer to get a better look. They circled around, standing on top of each other, pushing the others around them off to the side. They watched to see John struggle to breathe his final breath of life and fail miserably. The last thing he would see when he died was the face of the man who had murdered his family laughing at him. He grabbed Florian's hands but he was too strong for any ordinary man to budge. He kicked and he squirmed but nothing could break him free. 

In Florian's shadow emerged Ted with machete in hand. He struck the blade into Florian's forehead in attempt to save John. Florian swiped at Ted in defense and released John. Ted flew through the air the same way John had, but never stopped till the crowd of demon possessed soldiers caught him and tore him apart like vultures consuming a carcass. Florian's blood was black as oil. It spilled from his forehead where the blade stuck out. John reached out and pulled out the machete, like King Arthur removing the sword from the cobblestone. He raised it one last time and severed Florian's hand from his body and caught it in midair, removing the ring from his finger and holding it in the palm of his hand. Florian's skull shattered as he hit the ground. A bright light bled from the cracks in him, lighting up the night as if it had turned to day. The bodies of the undead soldiers fell to the ground as soon as the light hit them. John stood in triumph over the wasteland of dead bodies. The tide had come in to cleanse the beach of the blood and death that it was littered with.

John looked down at the ring in his hand as the sunlight from the morning sun reflected off it. The power of such an ancient artifact was too much for any man of today to control. He would get rid of it as soon as possible, but for now he placed it in his pocket where he would hold on to it temporarily. He walked from the beach as far as possible, ready for the new day ahead of him, unaware of the misshapen shadows cascaded on the ground that followed him, reaching for his pocket.


End file.
